Badge Bunny

by K L Montgomery

  He heads into the room to speak with the patient, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to follow him in there and blow my stack at him. Once again, Anita saves me from career suicide. Like I said, nurses are awesome! “Did Trooper Everson get under your skin? Your cheeks are glowing bright red.” She lets out a little chuckle as her eyes sweep across my face.

  That is probably the worst part of being a natural redhead. Not only does the evil ball of hydrogen in the sky hate me with all its solar guts, but it is nearly impossible for me to disguise anger or embarrassment because my skin flushes so easily. I’ve learned to control it a little better than when I was a kid, but to some extent, it’s completely out of my hands.

  “He thought I was the nurse,” I seethe, shooting a dagger-filled glare into the patient’s room. I swear he can feel those daggers bombarding him because he looks back at me with that same cocky smile he gave me a few minutes ago.

  “Oh dear,” Anita says, patting my arm with a patronizing tone to her voice. “I know how much you hate that.”

  “If you’d busted your ass in medical school, you’d hate it too.” I sigh as I realize what a bitch I sound like. “I’m sorry. I know you bust your ass every night in here. I don’t mean to offend you.”

  She gives me an appreciative smile. “I’m not offended. It takes a whole helluva lot more than that to offend me.” She glances at the clock on the wall, then turns to me with a devious glint in her eye. “So when’s your first date?”

  “What?” My brows furrow with confusion as I try to figure out what the hell she’s talking about.

  “When’s your first date with Trooper Everson? There’s probably going to be a bet, you know. I’d like to have a bit of an insider edge.” She giggles as she watches my face grow twice as red as it was only a few seconds before.

  “There is not going to be a first date, last date, or any date in between for that matter,” I assure her. “That asshat is one cop I will never, ever go out with.”

  Two

  I walk in the door after my long-ass twelve-hour shift, and my sleek gray cat Crockett winds between my legs with his tail twitching. As soon as I ask him how his day went, he gives me the most pitiful meow I’ve ever heard. He’s missing his partner in crime, Tubbs. Yes, my cats are named after the characters on Miami Vice. You gotta problem with that?

  Tubbs ran away a few days ago, and I haven’t seen him since. I’ve patrolled the neighborhood where I live a few times, but still haven’t been able to find him. I even put up some “missing cat” signs and offered a reward, thinking a few of the neighborhood kids might be inclined to look for him if there was money involved. But no such luck.

  As I open a can of food for Crockett, a little flash of a memory niggles at my mind from my trip to the hospital with the DV vic. First of all, that image of the steak knife embedded in that poor lady’s thigh will probably stick around for a while. But that’s not all I remember.

  There’s a flash of copper-colored hair and the deepest, warmest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. There was something so sexy in the righteous indignation shooting out of those eyes at me when she insisted she was a doctor and not a nurse. Oops. My bad.

  I’ve just never seen a doctor who was so beautiful.

  Most of the doctors I know at Lewes Hospital are men, first of all, but the ones who are women seem a little…I don’t know… They definitely don’t seem like Dr. Miller. That was her name, right?

  I open my refrigerator door and scan the contents. I have enough sparkling water in here to last me through the week, and fortunately, there’s some leftover kale and quinoa salad I made the day before. Score one for me for not having to make dinner.

  My shiftmates would probably die if they saw my fridge. I am sure they think it’s full of beer and all I can cook are greasy hamburgers and frozen pizza. Little do they know…

  There’s a lot they don’t know about me, and I prefer to keep it that way. I have another secret too, and as soon as I finish my salad, I head into my office to fire up my computer. My eyes trail over the screen, then I crack my knuckles and get to work.

  I love being a cop, don’t get me wrong. But if my hobby ever takes off to where I can make the kind of money I make at DSP…well, I’ll seriously have to consider retirement.

  Whose idea was it for doctors to work such long shifts, anyway? Obviously some administrator who only ever worked 9 to 5 in a cushy office. I barely have enough time to change clothes and head out to the pool. I ask Alexa to play my favorite Metallica song while I strip out of my doctor clothes and into the ugly, unflattering Speedo I swim laps in. I’m training with my swim club for their summer event. It’s an open sea swim, and while I personally refuse to swim in the ocean, I still need to get in better shape. My fitness regimen definitely disintegrated over the winter. But now that it’s almost spring, it’s time to get back at it.

  I’m headbanging to the beat when my phone buzzes in the other room. I rush in there—still naked, thankfully I live alone—and see it’s my brother calling. “Hey, Benji,” I coo into the phone.

  He hates being called Benji. That’s what our mom used to call him.

  “Oh, ‘Wherever I May Roam,’ I hear it in the background,” he observes, choosing to ignore my taunt.

  I quickly cover the phone and ask Alexa to turn the music down. Oops. My brother gives me a really hard time about my heavy metal obsession. He says I was born ten years too late to like that music, but what can I say, he instilled some good taste in me. Even if his name is Benji.

  “Hey, you got a minute?” he asks, his tone sounding serious.

  With our parents divorced and both living their lives in different states, he seems to call me more often than ever. He and his wife have been trying to get pregnant for five years now and have lost two babies. I think they believed once I became a doctor, I’d be able to wave some sort of magic doctor wand and make her pregnant. Of course, I don’t have that kind of wand (hehe). They are now going the adoption route. Just waiting for a couple to select them.

  “Of course, bro, what’s up?” I take a seat on the edge of the sofa. Still naked. And I’m pretty sure this is not good naked (thanks for that term, Seinfeld.)

  “Well, we got the call today,” he announces in a soft voice, like he’s trying to be nonchalant about it.

  My heart starts to pound against my ribcage. “THE call?”

  “Yup!” Just that one word conveys all the excitement and joy I’ve ever heard from my brother. “Jamie and I are going to be parents!”

  “Oh my god, Ben, that’s amazing! Whoo hooo!” I shout so loudly, my neighbors across the street probably heard me. “I’m absolutely thrilled for you! Tell me all the details.”

  Ugh, I’m still sitting here naked. I put the phone on speaker and walk back to my bedroom to put the ugly swimsuit on while he fills me in.

  “Well, it’s a little girl, and she’s two years old and biracial. She’s been in her grandparents’ custody her whole life, but their health is failing. They can’t keep up with a toddler anymore. They like that we’re an interracial couple and also that I’m an entrepreneur and Jamie is planning to stay home with our children. We have to finalize the paperwork and all that, but the agency told us it shouldn’t be any longer than thirty days! Can you believe it?”

  “Oh, Ben, I’m so happy for you guys! I can’t think of anyone who will be better parents than you and Jamie. Is she totally over the moon?” I let go of the straps of my swimsuit, and they snap back against my shoulders. Ouch!

  “Jamie is ecstatic. Her name is Harmony, and she is absolutely adorable. I’m going to text you a picture, okay?”

  “Harmony, what a pretty name!” I perch on the edge of my bed, staring at my phone and waiting for the photo to arrive. As soon as I see it, my heart skips a beat. There is the little girl who will be my niece, and she is absolutely perfect. She has tight springy reddish-brown curls and the most beautiful thickly lashed chocolate brown eyes I’ve ever seen. Acros
s her adorable button nose is a smattering of freckles. She looks like she could be the offspring of my pale, redheaded brother and his beautiful African American wife.

  I feel such joy surge through me, I can’t even remember the last time I felt so happy. The cares of the day fade away, especially that ridiculous state trooper who didn’t believe I was a doctor. The nerve of that guy!

  “Well, Jamie and I are going out tonight to celebrate,” he announces. “You’re not free by any chance, are you? I know it’s short notice.”

  “I’m just on my way out the door to the Y to swim with my club,” I reply. “I’m so sorry, Benj. Maybe we can go out this weekend? I’ve got a dress fitting for my friend’s wedding, but after that I’m free on Saturday.”

  “Let’s do it. I’ll tell Jamie.” Despite my declining his invitation, he still sounds happier than I’ve heard him sound in a long time.

  I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I ransack my drawers to find some clothes to throw on. My face is literally glowing with happiness for my brother and his wife, which makes me smile. Then my eyes travel down to my winter-ravaged body. My skin is sallow, and I’m a bit thicker around the middle than I want to be. My conservative swimsuit is hiding most of my deepest, darkest secret. But my shoulders and arms look strong and toned. And my thighs, though thick, are literal powerhouses. I take a deep breath. I’ve got this.

  When I get to the pool at the YMCA in Rehoboth, I spot Sonnet and a couple other people from our club stretching next to the bleachers. I wave from across the pool, and they all wave back. I joined the swim club last year, but I was super busy with work and this conference I was speaking at, which involved a paper written with colleagues from med school, so I took the last two months off. This is my first night back, which is why I didn’t want to miss it, not even to have dinner with my brother. A little selfish, maybe, but I was supposed to go back at the beginning of the month, and I’ve made an excuse every single time.

  I met Sonnet through this club last year, and we immediately clicked. She’s more of a runner than a swimmer and asked me for help with her stroke. She’s training for a triathlon in the Fall, and she’s got the running and biking down just fine. Last summer, we went to the pool together almost every day, even when the club wasn’t meeting. Summer is her fiancé’s busy time at work, and Sonnet is a teacher, so she had free time. We grew really close in a short amount of time. So close, in fact, she asked me to be one of her bridesmaids in her wedding coming up in May.

  “You’re looking incredible, girl!” I throw my arms around her for a hug. I’m not really the hugging type, but I haven’t seen her since we met to pick out my bridesmaid’s dress a couple months ago.

  “I missed you SO MUCH!” she gushes, squeezing me tightly against her petite frame. She is about a half foot shorter than me, but there is a huge personality in that little package. She whips her long, dark brown hair into a ponytail, then snags her swim cap off the bench. “You ready for this?”

  I nod. “I’ve had a really weird—not bad, just weird—day. If nothing else, I need to clear my mind.” I take off my shirt and shorts and do a little stretching of my own, preparing my limbs for the cold water.

  “Weird at work?” She raises an eyebrow at me as I follow her over to one of the empty lanes. We always share.

  The captain of our club, Wendy, gives us a nod across the way, then holds up a finger asking us to wait. I’m sure she has a workout for us to complete.

  “Work is always weird. It’s the ER,” I joke. “But yeah, had a pretty nasty domestic and a run-in with a real asshat cop, but then I got home and found out my brother and his wife are going to be adopting a little girl!”

  “Oh, that’s fantastic!” Her lips spread into a grin as she stretches the swim cap on her head. “Well, sounds like you have a lot on your mind, then.”

  I nod at her as I pull my own cap on, tucking strands of reddish-blonde hair under it. The coach comes over and lays a laminated card on the mosaic tiled floor in the middle of our lane. “Let’s go, girls!” she exclaims, grinning.

  Sonnet jumps in without even the slightest bit of hesitation, while I dip my toe in. It’s freakin’ cold as ice. I forgot my waterproof headphones. Damn it. Swimming is so much more enjoyable with my metal tunes.

  “I have a lot on my mind too,” Sonnet says as I gingerly slip into the water right beside her.

  She’s usually upbeat, but I can feel the tension radiating off her. “What’s wrong? Wedding issues?”

  “Yeah, the place where I’m supposed to have our ceremony just called today to say their renovations aren’t going to be ready in time for us. They’re pushing their grand re-opening back to June.” She lets out a long “ugggghhhhh” sound as she dips her goggles into the pool to wash them off.

  “Oh no!” With less than two months to go till their big day and living in a resort area like we do, I feel my body tensing up with nerves on her behalf. Or it could just be the icy water, who knows?

  “Yeah, I don’t know what to do.” She frowns, shaking her head. “Drew wants to just get married at his place. He thinks we could have the ceremony in the art gallery.” She rolls her eyes. “As if.”

  Her fiancé owns an art gallery/concert venue in downtown Rehoboth. “Well, could you?” I ask, dipping my own goggles into the water. But then a brilliant idea comes over me. “Hey, I know something that might work!”

  “What?” Her dark eyes are shining with intrigue.

  “My brother, you may remember, has that new adventure business on Fenwick Island. They have kayaking and stuff like that. But there’s a cafeteria-type building there with a brand-new kitchen, and a cute little gazebo, plus a cabin where we could get ready. It’s pretty…rustic…but I bet he’d rent it to you super cheap. And, it’s absolutely gorgeous out there. Really natural and not touristy at all.”

  “Really?” I can hear her perkiness returning even in that one word. “Think we could check it out this weekend after the dress fittings?”

  “Actually, I’m supposed to have dinner with my brother and sister-in-law that evening to celebrate their adoption. So why don’t you just come with me? We can drive down to his place to check it out after the fittings.”

  “That is totally perfect, Brynne!” she squeals. “I think you may have just saved my wedding. I’m already letting Andrew do a stupid Star Wars theme, so I at least want it somewhere nice.”

  “I thought the theme was Music Under the Stars?” I vaguely remember that being the winning theme in some contest they held last summer.

  “Yeah, Music Under the Star Wars,” she retorts, frowning. “We’re getting married on Star Wars Day, apparently, which I didn’t know before. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew all along.”

  “I don’t know Drew that well yet, but I can totally see that,” I say, laughing. “Sneaky bastard!”

  She chuckles and shakes her head. “It’s a good thing he’s so cute.”

  “Girls, are you going to swim or what?” Captain Wendy asks, crouching down right in front of our lane.

  “Yep, we’re on it!” Sonnet exclaims, and she pushes her compact little body off the wall with barely a splash.

  Three

  I’m thinking about how much I miss my kitty Tubbs when I roll up in the Walmart parking lot to respond to a shoplifting report. I pull up right alongside my shiftmate’s cruiser. “Hey, Morgan, what’s up?”

  “Hey, Summer Teeth, nice of you to join me.” She purses her lips at me, then smooths out her hair before setting her campaign hat on top of her head.

  Why did I ever want to go out with her? I don’t know what the attraction was. She’s only fractionally less annoying than her sister, and her ego is as big as Texas. I don’t think egos that big belong in Delaware. It’s a small state, you know.

  Ah, the Walmart parking lot, I think, scanning across the rows of cars with the sun glinting off their shiny exteriors, scene of many a crime. I spend more time here and at the outlet mall than I care t
o admit. Shoplifting is a serious problem where we live, and a lot of times the merchandise is resold to support a drug habit. Shoplifting, drugs, DUIs, and domestics make up probably 80% of what I do.

  We both head in the main door, diverting to the Loss Prevention office. I see a few eyes glance our way. Everyone takes notice when the cops arrive. It’s amazing what this badge and uniform do to change people’s behavior.

  The head of LP greets us and gestures to a woman sitting in a chair. She’s a white lady, probably in her fifties, with long stringy dishwater blonde hair and an inch of gray roots. She has spider veins on her legs and is wearing a short denim skirt with flip flops. It’s not quite warm enough for that outfit yet, but to each their own, you know? I can tell she’s a smoker just getting within three feet of her. On the LP officer’s desk is a pile of jewelry.

  While we’re waiting for the LP officer to pull up the video surveillance, another call comes in requesting a check of a suspicious person parked in—you guessed it—the Walmart parking lot. My eyes flash over to Morgan, and she nods. I don’t know how we ascertain in that brief gesture that she’ll stay and I’ll go, but we do. I guess you just get to know your shiftmates that well—I mean, you do put your lives in their hands and vice versa.

  I head back through the store as a different array of eyeballs lock on to me like they’re watching the latest viral video or something. Speaking of which, I’ve noticed some citizens whip out their cameras and film me in action, I guess just waiting to catch me doing something wrong. Some people have no love for the thin blue line, that’s for damn sure. I wonder if they’d change their tune if I stepped in front of a bullet for them.

  I try to clear my head of those negative thoughts as I make my way toward the parking lot. Apparently the car is at the back of the lot and has dark, tinted windows—probably too dark to be legal—but the report is that a woman in the car appears to be passed out. I spot the burgundy sedan exactly where the dispatcher said it was and approach it slowly, my hand on my gun. You just never know what you’re getting into when you approach a suspicious vehicle or person.